One who stayed behind
by Arete Panthar
Summary: A soldier who would have been selected to be one of the 300 gets injured and has to stay behind. He must deal with it... and it's not working. Until he gets a most unexpected visit...


It was a calm night. So calm, that the silence could almost be heard. Lying on his bed, with a bandage around his forehead, Licurgus started to fall asleep. He still recovered from the accident of that training day. Of that cursed day…

When he woke up, it was as if a long night had passed. They told him that after he had hit his head, he didn't wake up before a whole day had passed. The 300 had already left the city, marching to the Hot Gates. Licurgus had to stay in bed for another two days, and at the end of the third day news of the end of the battle were already heard. Still dizzy for having been lying down for so long, Licurgus saw himself being taken by a confused mixture of irritation and sorrow. But even more, of frustration.

Naturally, he could not forget that because of an accident – a poorly calculated movement, that in those circunstances could have been done by any man – he hadn't been part of that group of men. And he knew that he would have been. He was distinguished as a soldier, notable for the precision in his movements, and he was famous for that. But on that day, because of a slip, he was deprived of achieving the honor and the glory that every Spartan craves for. He was told to resign himself, that his slip was forgivable – even the most experient soldier could have been its author –, that it was not his fate to have fallen at Thermopylae. But none of that consoled him. He came to the point of thinking he would rather have died because of the blow to the head than having been left behind.

Ever since he started to recover, his sleep was rarely peaceful. Because it was tormented by the memory that he had not shared a heroic destiny. And as he still had to stay in bed for some hours along the day to recover fully – a prescription from the doctor, that Licurgus felt like sending to Hades in the high point of his unhappiness – he got irritated because he was unable even to get Morpheus to take him away from the bitter reality for a few moments . Maybe he was driving him away with his bad mood.

* * *

However on that night he finally felt that sleep was taking his members. He felt that his eyelids got heavier and heavier. But minutes after he had closed his eyes, he felt that he opened them again, with the alarm of someone who is waken up by something. And when he noticed it, it was no one else than Stelios who stood before him, with one of his feet on the mattress of the bed and one of the hands on his hip. What was he doing there? Shouldn't he be dead?...

Stelios had the same mocking smile that he always had. Spartans were experts in the art of humor, but Stelios was a master. His ability to make fun of someone was admirable and he seemed to have been born with it. If there was a contest to award the most spirituous discourses, Sparta should send him as its representative. Or a contest destined to the most acid discourses. He was, by the way, so good at this that it was enraging. At least to the ones who had already been targets of his tongue.

"The brave Licurgus was left behind…", he heard him say. And Licurgus felt the anger begin to rise at once.

"You among all people, named after a legislator of Sparta…", Stelios kept walking on his direction, pretending to be serious. And he went on:

"Because of a blow to the head, you couldn't know what glory is…", at each step getting closer. Licurgus held the blanket that he had in his hands firmer until his knucles got white.

"You didn't see glory face to face at Termopylae...", Licurgus followed him with his gaze, as if warning Stelios to not go farther. But Stelios leaned over him, and at a short distance from his face, said:

"And you didn't have the beautiful death!"

At this point Licurgus was already bitting the blanket, and jumping from his bed he started to run after Stelios, who had skillfully jumped first and ran like the wind. But not without going on with his damn remarks:

"He was left behind, what a shame! The gods did not want him to be one of the 300…"

And that only made Licurgus put more strength into his legs.

"Stelios! Shut your mouth, you son of a…"

"Because of one blow to the head, he stayed…"

"You miserable…"

"When he woke up, they had already left…"

The anger that Licurgus felt was so great, the he could not even find words. And Stelios, being the misbegotten bastard that he was, only made it greater. Licurgus focused more on running, thinking that by sparing the effort of talking he could reach him, but he got tired, having to stop because his head ached. Damn head. If it wasn't for it…

Feeling pathetic, he stopped, putting his hands on his knees and with his head low. If it exploded now, it would do him a great favor… it would be better than to keep tasting the nasty flavor of having stayed behind.

Stelios had stopped as well, returning to where Licurgus was. And he didn't even seem to be tired… How had he managed to run so fast? His feet barely seemed to touch the ground… And with no doubt he had now a smile that was not only mocking, but also triumphing. He walked slowly, both the hands on the waist, as if he were going to brag about the run. He should be as stiff-assed as a peacock…

Licurgus did not even want to think of what would be his remarks now. But it was when, still with his head low, he heard Stelios say:

"You will have your chance, Licurgus".

He could almost hear the smile in his voice. When he rose his head to look at him, Stelios had disappeared. And Licurgus saw himself in the middle of the street, dressed only in his underwear. He only hoped now that all of this was just a dream…

* * *

In the following day, Licurgus had woken up calmer. A strange calm, as if all that anguish seemed now unjustified. Had it been because of that dream? (which, by the way, had been very real. He almost felt his legs still tired from running so much). The certainty with which Stelios had said that he would have his chance? And he could almost hear him complete that sentence with something as "Not a chance as big as Thermopylae, but you will have it", with his typical smile. Licurgus noticed that almost against his will the corners of his mouth were going up as he thought of that.

He went out to the street. In a group of people, someone talked about the 300. Had their deaths been indeed dignified? Had those soldiers sacrificed themselves in vain? Who could tell for sure?

There was a consternation in the air, but it did not affect Licurgus, who stopped near them almost as if he did not notice what was discussed. He looked at the sky. It now seemed calm, very different from the other days, when it seemed to be heavy with so much tension. Could that mean something?

He realized someone talked about Stelios. And Licurgus, smiling in an absent-minded manner, looked quickly to the group that was talking and said:

"Do not worry ", and turned his eyes to the sky. "The son of a bitch is fine".

And to himself, without anyone being able to hear, he said with all the calm that an already known fact has:

"And regarding myself… I will have my chance".


End file.
